VOX Table

Food

Atmosphere

Service

Value

VOX Table is a restaurant just slightly out of its own time. Its seasonal, farm-to-table approach is firmly rooted in today’s culinary hour, as is the focus on small plates. But some of its more flashy touches—celery foam on the bloody mary, “interactive” smoked hamachi pipettes and the ever-present, self-reverential branding (the restaurant’s name is emblazoned on the napkins and wine glasses)—harken back to the restaurants of the early aughts and the moment before fine dining dropped the shoulder pads.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed every morsel of that hamachi dish, a virtuous circle of silken fish pressed with crisped grains, concentrated cherry tomato “raisin,” slivers of lightly pickled cucumber and Thai chili all skewered on a plastic pipette full of tart-sweet coconut-soy vinaigrette that you squeeze out as you bite. The textural contrast and the mix of smoky, saline and tart did it for me and my dining companion—though I do lament all the plastic that must pile up every night. And while elevated small plates isn’t a particularly cutting-edge concept these days (Chef Joe Anguiano’s resume includes a stint at The Bazaar under José Andrés, whom many credit with popularizing tapas in the United States), it’s stuck around for a reason. Its communal approach is a warm one, and it appeals to any diner with a serious inner glutton, enabling the desire to try everything. In other words, diners like me. (Though I prefer to call it “professional curiosity.”) Indeed, it seems like it’s that audience that Anguiano and owner Vincent Manguino had in mind when opening VOX, named after the Latin word for “voice.” As our waiter explained, the nature of the shared menu encourages discussion and collaboration.

And convivial it is. Though no one would accuse VOX of being warm, with its sparse, open space and gray tones, it doesn’t feel especially cold, either. It’s as if they’re leaving it to you and your company to adorn the space. Service is friendly and professional, and diners linger unhurried over their succession of plates. There is chatter—thankfully not the screeching racket that often comes with so spartan a space, but a warm buzz. For all its modernist touches and self-conscious glitz, VOX, to its credit, doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously. The menu is divided into cheeky sections, including “leaves + roots,” “fins + shells” and “hooves.” And the drinks bear similarly irreverent names, such as the Rhu-Tang Clan, a tart adult rhubarb lemonade; the tiki-style rum and banana mixture called Monkey See, Monkey Do; and the compulsively drinkable Danny Trejo, a lightly sweet and smoky pineapple-tequila concoction.

All that being said, my dining companion and I found our dinner offerings hit or miss. The panko mixed in with the crust on the crispy butternut squash added an unusual and welcome crunch, but was bland even with its South Asian–inspired yogurt dip—a flat note after our hamachi high. I enjoyed the lightly flavored red crab more than my friend, who found nothing remarkable in its salad-like mix of crisped Brussels sprouts, crumbled egg and slivers of asparagus and radish served with a custardy smear of yuzu pudding. We both savored the hearty yet elegant roasted Tasmanian trout with its Asian-inflected accompaniments of buttery shimeji mushrooms and mui choy. We also dug the tongue and cheek bun, a miniaturized take on a Sunday roast dinner with tender beef and frizzled leeks stuffed inside Yorkshire pudding (a crusty popover), though the promise of a zing from horseradish aioli never delivered for me. And like the New Orleans natives that we are, we both wanted to love the Sazerac sundae, with its rye whiskey custard and Peychaud’s bitters ice cream. Instead, we found it too muted for our tastes, which hold allegiance to the more face-socking flavors of the Crescent City.

Brunch, however, was more roundly on point. We enjoyed every bit, from the rich, toasty coffee to the cocktails (that bloody mary comes with a pony of Miller High Life) to a rich yet seemingly weightless crab Benedict tucked into Yorkshire pudding and accompanied by thick prosciutto chips. And the hash thoroughly satisfied, with substantial bites of the tangy-salty pork and sweet potato, layered with an egg, fresh charred corn and just-crisp slices of zucchini. Even the chile-flecked Mexican fruit bowl managed to impress.

VOX’s solid brunch delivery convinces me that any unevenness in the dinner menu can be smoothed out. The kitchen is clearly capable. But I’ll admit I find VOX’s slightly anachronistic style puzzling. Is it intentional, or merely a symptom of its surroundings—the slick mixed-use developments popping up all over town? More importantly, does it matter? With a mostly notable menu and a thoroughly agreeable atmosphere, it could just mean that VOX is a restaurant still finding its voice.